The Copper Horse #1 Fear (5 page)

Going back home and listening to his father's nagging would bring Reuben no peace, but there was a place he could go to for the only solace he knew—gin. The local pub was already full and bustling with chatter, drunken couples dancing to the sound of a fiddle. The merry atmosphere brought a slight smile to his face as he looked around the room, in search of a friendly face. The freehouse was homely and warm, with a high ceiling and used but solid furniture. From what he had heard, there used to be small mirrors on the walls above each of the tables standing along the walls, but all that remained were empty spaces, often used by literary visitors as a place to express their current thoughts. Mostly drunk ones.

"Carrot!" A few girls mocked his hair, but he shrugged it off and went straight up to the barmaid to get himself a pint. Only after taking a few sips right there at the counter did he turn to find his mates.

"Ruby! Long time no see!" yelled out Tobias, a young man with the most unhealthy-looking teeth Reuben had ever seen. There was also Silent Thomas, mute since someone cut off his tongue, and Jacob, a handsome youngster with quite a reputation for whoring and gambling. He was rumored to earn his keep at the cost of London's betters, but as no one ever caught him red-handed, it was not an established fact.

"Hiya, Ruby!"

"Long day's work. I need a beer. How are you?" Reuben sat at the table, next to Tobias.

Silent Thomas remained mute, of course, but the ever-outspoken Jacob cackled. "Had Naughty Molly today!" He combed his fingers through his unruly, pitch black hair. He clearly was the best dressed one of them, and that only supported the gossip about his connections to the Bylondon mob.

"Some people are lucky, I see!" Reuben gave him a cocky grin, although he never understood the point of boasting about things like that. "You, Toby?"

"Ah, same old shit." He drank his beer slowly. "My wife's makin' a fuss, so 'ere I am. Don't wanna look at 'er mug."

"Try lookin' at 'er muff instead!" Jacob and the rest of the table roared at the joke, even Silent Thomas gave a smile. "Or dance with one of them fresh girls," Jacob continued, wiggling his eyebrows and gazing sideways at the dance floor.

"I'd rather get more beer," said Reuben. He never got the idea of paying a girl for a dance. Sex? That was different, that was a clear exchange. But a dance? Cockteasing.

"Or maybe Percy Preston?" Tobias winked at him. "I heard you went to his show."

"He's funny. Good actor. Doesn't mean I think about his ass at night." Though he absolutely did. Percy Preston was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. With skin more tender than a baby's bottom. He'd do a lot to spend a night under him.

"Well, some say he'll be kicked out of London for his plays soon enough—" Tobias wanted to say more, but Jacob butted into the conversation.

"Take an old, merry widow, she'll get ya beer!" He nudged Reuben's ribs with an elbow. "Yer 'andsome enough for that lot."

Reuben only shook his head. "Not with this bruised up face."

"Ah, come on!" Jacob patted Reuben's arm. "I'll show ya one. Come on, the lads can manage on their own for a few minutes!"

Silent Thomas shot him a doubtful look.

"One that'll buy me gin for a dance?" That sounded very dodgy, but Reuben stood up and followed Jacob. The other man put an arm over his neck, leading him through the crowded room.

"I 'ave a job for ya," he said straight from the shoulder as they passed the wooden bar and walked into a narrow corridor, where they had to brush past a fat man in order to get through. Reuben had no idea what someone who could clearly afford a lot of food was looking for in a place like this.

"Do ya?" Reuben cleared his throat, his eyes back on Jacob.

"Eh, ya don't trust me, mate?" Jacob made a hurt face, drawing back until he hit the wall.

"Oh, I dunno, I just don't wanna get into trouble…" Reuben trailed off, blinking when someone pushed a piece of paper into his hand and rushed past them as if the devil himself were after him.

"What, ya workin' with 'im?!" asked Jacob, pushing Reuben into the wall.

"With who?" Reuben gave him a confused look and glanced down at the piece of paper that turned out to be a low-quality print of a rather brawny couple with grayish, anonymous faces. The man was dashing fire from a huge gun, while his female counterpart held out a wicker basket of bread toward anonymous hands. The drawing was topped with a large font that read:
We're coming!

"God, no!" Reuben threw the leaflet to the ground, pushing Jacob further into the corridor. He didn't want to have anything to do with anarchists! Those people had blown up a mansion just a few weeks ago, not to mention attempting to assassinate the Great Inquisitor of London and pushing for changes Reuben didn't understand or want to understand, for that matter. He knew one thing though: it was illegal to support them.

"Good." Jacob didn't seem affected by the leaflet. He grabbed Reuben's arm and took a sip from the glass of beer he was holding. "My offer has nothin' to do with 'em! Those same things pay for most of my good time!"

"Oh, what is it then?" Reuben asked in a whisper, as he suspected there had to be a catch in the offer. Jacob wasn't known for doing favors. They walked into a quieter room, where men played cards at two tables.

"Here's the thing," Jacob began, taking a seat at an unoccupied bench in the far corner where they could have some privacy. The wood gave an unpleasant crack, but Jacob didn't pay it any mind. "Ya know Bylondon, right?"

Reuben sat next to him and downed most of his beer in one go. "I never go there!" he said without hesitation. "It's dangerous. A lawless land." He furrowed his eyebrows, remembering all the horrendous stories he had heard about the parasite districts that grew on the outer side of London city walls. The government didn't meddle in their affairs, and apparently the only things preventing their inhabitants from doing exactly what they pleased were powerful gangs. Their leaders ruled Bylondon with iron fists, living like dukes in their own domain.

"I do." Jacob shrugged as if it was nothing. "It's much better than everyone thinks! There are even schools and a hospital, just like in London!"

"Really?" Reuben's eyes went wide. He'd always thought of Bylondon to be a place of constant chaos.

"Yes, but they have this problem with food…" Jacob trailed off, looking him straight in the eye.

"Why? They're closer to the forest than us." Reuben folded his arms over his chest. He knew for a fact that most people weren't willing to cross the wall and enter Bylondon, let alone get on the outer side of its stockade. He suspected that the zombies he sometimes encountered in the sewers had entered them through open manholes in the forests around the city.

"But most food is grown on farms, and farms sell to London first," Jacob explained with a grin. He leaned over so that none of the other patrons overheard his words. "In Bylondon, food's pricey, and I know someone that buys everythin'."

"You do? They pay a lot?" Reuben fixed his gaze on the other man. Maybe if he took part in an outing like this... just once, he could pay off the debt he had with his father.

"Oh!" Jacob shook his head with a wide smile. "Ya will be able to quit the bakery."

"Really?" Reuben's heart started pounding faster than he liked. "So what'd ya need me for?"

"Bread." Jacob's answer cut into Reuben's sentence. "We need bread. Two sacks."

That had Reuben coming down from the initial enthusiasm. "And I'd get so much money for two sacks of bread?"

"Last time I got twenty pounds!" Jacob smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I wanna 'elp ya. And I need someone to 'elp me. The more food, the more money."

"So where's the catch?" Reuben whispered, even though he knew at this point that he would give this business a shot.

"Catch?" Jacob rolled his eyes and got up to his feet, looking offended. "If ya don't want it, I can offer it to someone else instead!"

"Oh, come on!" Reuben tugged at his sleeve. "I need to know more. But I could even get pies."

That caught his friend's attention. "All right," Jacob said, lowering his backside to the bench again. "I need someone to 'elp me in the sewer, ya know it well. and I 'ave blueprints, so there'll be no problem."

"In the sewers..." Reuben's body tensed. The prospect of leaving the safety of the tunnels he knew froze him to the seat. "Is that the only way in?"

"No, but the tax is a pain." Jacob licked his lips, slouched his body, and discretely lifted one side of his jacked. For a moment, Reuben didn't know what he was supposed to see, but then he recognized the shape of a small gun.

"That could help." He gave a faint smile. In the darkness of the sewer, a bullet could just as well end up in
his
guts. Still, it didn't make Jacob's offer any less appealing. Having his own money meant freedom.

"Ya bet it could, mate!" Jacob laughed and patted his arm as if they were brothers in arms. "Let's do it!"

Reuben licked his lips nervously. "Next week? 'Cause I don't want to do it when there is so much police in the city center."

"Yeah, our district is under surveillance. Fuckin' Gregorovich. I tell ya he won't be any different than what we 'ave now," breathed Jacob, taking another sip of his beer. He fished something out of his trouser pocket and gave it to Reuben. "Look through it when yer alone."

Reuben nodded and slipped it inside his shirt, close to his erratically beating heart. His eyes met Jacob's as the other man held out his hand. "We 'ave a deal, right?"

Reuben took a deep breath and shook his hand. "Deal."

No way back.

Chapter 4

Reuben arrived at home feeling ultimately deflated. It'd been a week since he had made the deal with Jacob, and he'd spent the last few days studying the blueprints of the sewers. On this last night before leaving his old life, he was tempted to go back to that bridge where he had been violated not even a month ago. His love for cock was a death wish. He'd gone there for a fuck, but ended up being a witness to an encounter that seemed a lot more intimate than any of his quick romps. Loneliness hit him deep in the chest as he watched the two men and it made any thoughts of being fucked that night disperse like blood in the Thames.

Sometimes, he wondered that maybe his father knew about his perverted passions and that was the reason he despised him so much. He didn't choose to be like this, though. Those desires were ingrained in his gut as if he were cursed.

He growled at the sight of light up in the attic, as it meant his father was home, and he couldn't sneak into his bed in peace. He did try to be very quiet, though. Up in their room, it was unbearably hot. A loud, drunken cackle greeted Reuben at the door.

"None wanted to give ya any cunt?" came from his father's rustled bed where he lay in his day clothes, a bottle of gin in hand.

"Bugger off!" Reuben snapped, taking off his shirt.

"And that's all ya can do!" The old man laughed. The weak light from the candle sharpened his twisted smile. "Ya bark back like a dog."

"Oh, yeah!? Maybe shoulda taught me better!" Reuben didn't even know where all the anger was coming from.

"I did teach ya well! A
dog
should bark!"

"You're such a useless old knob! I do everything I can!" Reuben was boiling up and to blow off some steam, he started pacing around the room, wary of the slanted ceiling. If he hit his head now, it would only add fuel to the flame.

The other man snorted, adjusting his crotch. "And what good can ya do? Yer doing a job anyone could do! Ya not even good at it!"

"Ah, fuck ya. I'm sick of ya!" Reuben yelled and put the shirt back on. This would be their last night together and he didn't even want to spend it in the same room. Maybe it was easier that way.

"And where d'ya think yer goin'?" His father sat up, straining to keep his body upright. No wonder, when the whole room smelled like a distillery.

"What do you care?" Reuben rushed down the stairs, refusing to listen to the drunken jabber.

"Where the fuck d'ya think yer goin'?"

"Wherever I choose to!" he said as if he were at a court hearing.

"Yer my son! Get back'ere! Now!" His father's voice was like a well-known creak in a wooden floor. Annoying, but Reuben had gotten used to it.

"Just go to sleep, for fuck's sake!" he screamed from the bottom of the stairs. They always did that, yelled at each other from different floors.

"I'm not botherin' to get up tomorrow!" screeched Father. Reuben rolled his eyes when his father voiced the biggest threat of all. It happened every few months. "Ya better do the bakin' or else ya'll starve and so will ya whores!"

Reuben was on his way to the door when he stopped mid-way. He assumed it was more of a threat than something his father would actually do, but Reuben needed the breads for tomorrow. Being a lousy baker, he relied on his father to measure the ingredients and watch the temperature. "What the hell do you want from me!?" He started making his way back up the stairs.

"Ya must obey me! Ya would be nothin' without me!" His father's growl was like the barking of a chained-up dog.